nine months.

My brown-eyed, tan-armed little chubster,

You are 28.5 inches tall and 20 lbs. 11 oz. You went in to the pediatrician for a shot, and you didn't cry at all. Maybe your chubby legged absorbed it all, but I say it was bravery. I was so proud, and happy since it was the one time dad couldn't make your appointment. Mom hurts when she sees the tears.

Holy babble. You are doing it nonstop. And unlike your babbling before, this actually sounds like words. If someone is making loud noises, you try and beat them with louder ones. You are competitive. You love to say DaDa when you are in a good mood, and MaMa when you are in a sad one. You know who DaDa is and you say it when you see him. It's pretty adorable. You also make a "meow" noise when we show you a picture of a cat. You don't quite do it right, but it's the high pitched little noise. It's the best.

You love to point. You stick that pointer finger out and just point it at whatever interests you, and it is usually followed with "Da." There's a picture frame in our hallway and every time we go down the hall you insist on stopping at it so you can point at the people. You love to hand me things. When I take it you get so excited you flap your arms like you are about to fly. You do the arm flapping constantly. It's awesome.

You love light switches. It's kind of crazy how much. You start breathing fast and heavy whenever you see one and almost lunge to it. It's the little things in life, I guess.

You got three more teeth this month. Your second to the left bottom tooth (9/11) and your bottom right tooth on (9/13). Then just a short while later, your 8th tooth (top right) (9/24). It was a tough couple weeks, but we survived, and hopefully you are done for a while. You are still loving every kind of food, but your favorites are probably blueberries, waffles, and yogurt. You still get mad when you don't get fed fast enough. You also like to try and feed people the good you are eating. You stick your hand in mom or dad's mouth but never quite let go of the food. Your intentions are real. 

You also are 

standing up and holding on to things,
walking with support, which looks like a marching soldier,
shaking your head 'no' whenever we ask you a question,
pounding your palm on things, on people's legs, on tables, and
throwing all your toys. (you throw balls shockingly far for just a wee one)

You can go from laying to sitting, which has probably been your biggest triumph. You creep up in a downward dog yoga position and then just tip to the side so you can sit. The more independence you get with your mobility, the happier you seem to be. You aren't doing the standard crawl yet, but still prefer rolling everywhere or creeping forward using your arms.

There are times when you might be nervous and you turn around and look up at me, your mom, for comfort. Times when you are grabbing my face and kissing me with all the slobber of a St Bernard. Times when your tiny body shakes with laughter and your eyes crease because they contain the purest happiness imaginable. It's these times when I feel a love that is so heavy that I know I'm doomed. You have me forever.

Love, Mom